










®«ii an6 lElla 


-BY- 

C. A. I;OX 




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C. A. FOX, 
TAFT, CALIFORNIA 




Copyright 1922 

By 

C. A. FOX 


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INDEX 


BUD AND ELLA ADRIFT ON THE SEA OF LIFE- 


NO SAIL, NO RUDDER 7 

THE INVITATION 12 

THE SPLIT GLASS MYSTERY - ... 17 

SOMETHING FOR NOTHING 25 

THE MARSHAL 36 

THE CAPTURE 44 


MARRIED, ‘TEE HEE” 


62 


From the Press 
of 

GEM PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
Los Angeles, California 


DEC 19 '22 


CHAPTER I. 

BUD AND ELLA ADRIFT ON THE SEA OF 
LIFE— NO SAIL, NO RUDDER. 

AW, air you jes’ a-goin’ to pack that ol' 
license aroun’ ’til you wear it plumb out, 
or air you a-goin’ to give it to me an’ 

let me an’ Eller go an’ git married? 

’Cause you know, paw, it don’t look jes’ honest- 
like to tell a gal, ‘Le’s git married’ an’ git the li- 
cense an’ ever’thin’ an’ then quit right thar. Folks 
is a-goin’ to talk, shore.” 

“I know, son, but I’m skeered,” answered the 
over-cautious father. 

"Skeered? Thar’s sumpin’ worse’n bein’ 
skeered. You kin fergit ’bout bein’ skeered, but 
you caint fergit what folks’ll say when they git 
to talkin’. ’Sides, Eller’s folks is gittin’ all het 
up over the way I’m a-doin’. Yander comes Eller 
an’ her paw an’ maw, right now. An’ paw, you 
got to do the talkin’ fer me.” 

“All right. Bud, I’ll tell ’em jes’ how it air. 
Then if they want to take the chances. I’ll give 
up, an’ you kin take her to Oklahoma City, or 
wherever you kin find a preacher, an’ git married.” 

— 7 — 



BUD AND ELLA 


Ella and her parents arrived, not in the best 
of humor, and the first thing they said was: 

“Bud, we’re come to find out what you aim 
to do.” 

Poor Bud! The same old lump came up in 
his throat, as it always did when Ella’s parents 
would get “fussed up.” All he could do was to 
point appealingly to his father, who answered for 
him: 

“Wa’al here’s the way it stan’s. I’ve got a 
friend who’s a marshal, an’ he’s been a-tellin’ me 
about them Yokum brothers, who is the worst bad 
men that ever got loose in Oklahoma. Las’ week 
they broke jail an’ fought their way back to this 
country. A whole posse o’ marshals got ’em sur- 
rounded in a thicket, without horses an’ only one 
gun, an’ was a-goin’ to keep ’em thar an’ starve ’em 
out. But one marshal he ’lowed he wasn’t afeared 
to go in after ’em. The others tried to keep him 
from goin’, but he would go. He went in an’ they 
beared one shot an’ that was all. Them outlaws 
shot this fool marshal off’n his boss, took his 
guns, got on his fine boss, an’ the one behind 
turned his back to the one in the saddle, so they 
could see an’ shoot both ways. An’ here them 
Yokums come out’n that thicket, like imps o’ the 
— 8 — 


ADRIFT ON THE SEA OP LIFE 


devil, shootin’ right an’ left goin’ an’ cornin’, an’ 
got clean away. 

“An’ this yere marshal he ’lowed them Yo- 
kums was a-workin’ their way back to Oklahoma 
City. That’s whar they had ’em in jail. An’ this 
feller says when they git thar, thar’s goin’ to be 
hell a-poppin’ ’cause they’re a-goin’ to kill a lot 
more o’ them marshals afore they git thi’ough. 
An’ I tole Bud yere he better wait ontel them 
Yokums made Oklahoma City an’ got their fightin’ 
all done afore he started on this yere weddin’ 
trip. For if they got on that train an’ them 
Yokums was on it an’ got to shootin’ up marshals, 
like they do, an’ he’d accident’ly pick up one ’r 
two o’ them stray bullets, he’d make a mighty 
poor husband for Eller.’’ 

The girl’s parents answered that they would 
just as soon have a shot-up son-in-law as none at 
all, and they wanted his answer right then. So 
they all agreed to leave it to the children. 

Bud said he was “plumb willin’ an’ ready.’’ 
They asked Ella, who hung her head, nodding it 
up and down, and twisting around, dragging the 
toe of her shoe on the ground until her mother 
was compelled to take hold of her to stop her, 
while she said: 


— 9 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


“Yore a-kickin’ up so much dust we caint 
hardly see.” 

So it was agreed that the young folks start 
that very day disregarding the desperate charac- 
ters at large. 

Ella’s folks “’lowed” that Bud’s father bet- 
ter take the young folks to the train. As he was 
the only one of them all who had ever been on 
one of “them cars,” he could ,sort of post the 
young folks on travelin’. Ella had on her best 
dress, and as Bud had the one suit to choose from, 
they were soon ready, the boy’s father remarking 
that he had only one spring-seat for the wagon 
and they would all have to ride in it. 

The spring-seat not being any too wide, 
squeezed “Bud an’ Eller” close together. This be- 
ing the first time they had been so very close to 
each other, made them feel bashful at first and 
they looked away from each other. Finally they 
became accustomed to this close fit and began to 
look at each other, then grin and look away again. 
From there on to Sapling, the railroad station, 
they looked at each other and grinned continually. 

When Bud’s father drove up to the station, 
this travel-instructor didn’t even get out of the 
wagon, but just pointed, saying: 

“Yander’s the depot whar you git yore tick- 


ADRIFT ON THE SEA OP LIFE 


ets, an’ these long iron things is what the train 
comes in on. An’ when it comes in hang onto it. 
Trains don’t wait fer nobody.” 

After giving this abundance of travel infor- 
mation to this poor inexperienced couple, he said: 

Wa’al, I must be a-goin’, as it’ll be late ’fore 
I git home.” 


— 11 — 


CHAPTER II. 

THE INVITATION 

UD HAD been to Sapling before and had 
seen the trains pass through. Ella had 
never been farther from home than the 
school house and church near her home. 
But she was ready and willing to trust and obey 
anything that Bud said, provided she was fright- 
ened or at a loss what to do or say. Otherwise, 
if she was familiar with the subject in question, 
she was ready for an argument. That little, red 
head would bob around and those freckled eye- 
lids snap open and shut when she was defending 
her views in a controversy. But here was one 
of the places where Ella was the obedient kid. 

Bud had never ridden on the cars, but he had 
seen them, and that gave him the privilege of 
being boss temporarily. Ella wanted to see the 
train right away, and everything she would see 
or hear, she would ask him if that was a train. 
Bud finally persuaded her not to ask any more 
questions, assuring her that he would let her 
know when the train came. 

In purchasing their round-trip tickets, the 
-— 12 — 



THE INVITATION 


agent told them that it would be about dark when 
the train that was going to Oklahoma City ar- 
rived, adding that if they wished supper, they 
could get it as soon as the girl rang the bell in 
front of the dining-room door over there, point- 
ing toward the little hotel. 

Bud thanked him for the invitation and 
smiled knowingly as he told Ella of how liberal 
these train people were. 

“I been a-lookin’ at that place an’ shore knew 
what it was. I’m anxious to try one o’ them town- 
cooked meals I heard so much about,” said Ella. 

They kept walking back and forth past the 
dining-room door, until finally the girl came out 
and rang the dinner-bell, when this couple walked 
into a hotel dining room for the first time. 

The waitress, who was of the typical railroad 
eatinghouse type, sauntered up to them and snap- 
ped out: 

“Ham ’n’ eggs an’ beefsteak!” 

Bud looked at Ella and she looked at him, but 
neither said anything, as they did not have the 
slightest idea of what the girl meant. So they 
just sat still and grinned. 

The girl waited, and as other guests were 
coming into the dining room, she grew very impa- 
tient and snapped out angrily: 


BUD AND ELLA 


“Ham ‘n’ eggs an’ beefsteak, I said.” 

“Gosh ! that’s enough,” said Bud. 

“Say, I want to know what you want for 
supper,” said the waitress, “ham and eggs or 
beefsteak.” 

“Oh!” said Bud. “I’ll take ham an’ eggs.” 

The waitress looked at Ella in a sneering way 
and asked : 

“What’ll you have?” 

Ella said: “I’ll have the same.” 

Then the girl, more impatiently than before, 
snapped out: 

“How’ll you have your eggs?” looking dis- 
gustedly at Bud, who failed to understand, as the 
only way he knew there was to cook them was to 
fry them. 

As Bud failed to understand, the waitress 
looked appealingly at Ella. The dining room was 
filling up and the girl was in a rage. She picked 
up an empty chair and slammed it down on the 
floor as she walked around in front of Ella and 
almost shouted: 

“How do you want your eggs?” 

“Cooked of course, you dam fool,” snapped 
Ella right back. 

And those freckled eyelids popped open and 
shut so fast that the waitress decided to say no 
— 14 — 


THE INVITATION 


more to her. When the angry waitress reached 
the kitchen she yelled: 

“Two orders of ham and eggs, cooked any 
darn way you please.” 

The supper in the railroad dining room was 
progressing slowly. The only waitress, who must 
also act as cashier, was agitated beyond reason 
on account of the two extra guests and their poor 
understanding of city life. As she would pass 
their table, she glared at them and would say to 
herself : 

“If I was that doggone green, I’d stay at 
home.” 

The waitress did not know what a Godsend it 
would have been to this poor, green, young couple 
to have stayed at home; as they were so excited 
and embarrassed right then that they could hardly 
endure the humiliation. But they were determined 
to get married and the nearest parson was in Ok- 
lahoma City ; and they were going there whether 
or not. 

Bud finished his meal as soon as he could, 
and not thinking about Ella, started right out of 
the dining room. 

When the much-ruffled waitress saw him go- 
ing, she jumped in behind her cashier’s counter 
to collect for the meal. Bud was still very much 
— 16 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


excited, and with his head bowed in embarrass- 
ment, started to walk by. The waitress promptly 
stepped in front of him and said, in her usual way : 

“Haven’t you forgot something. Mister?” 

Instantly Bud grabbed the front of his pants, 
and after running his finger up and down and find- 
ing that the buttons were all fastened, answered : 

“Nope, I reckon not,” and started on again. 

This time the waitress demanded that he pay 
for the meal, which he did under protest, as he 
was sure that the agent had invited him to eat. 

Ella came out and together they went to the 
depot where they sat upon the benches to await 
the train, neither talking, but both thinking of 
all the unexpected things that had happened. And 
as they sat there, thinking and dreaming, they 
heard the train coming. Ella grabbed Bud by the 
hand and pulled him outdoors, saying that she 
was not going to let anything like that come up 
on her without seeing it come. 

When the train stopped Bud and Ella grabbed 
the first place where they had seen anyone get 
off, which was the smoker. They took a seat near 
the middle of the car and grinned at each other 
for the first time since they had left the dining 
room. 


— 16 — 


CHAPTER III. 

THE SPLIT GLASS MYSTERY 


LLA BEGAN to think she was “some 
punkins” now, when she found that Bud 
was as green as she was, and began to 
talk right out and ask questions, none 
of which Bud could answer. But that made no 
difference to her, she asked just the same, for 
there were so many new things and nearly all of 
them were funny. 

The old conductor came along, noticed the 
young lady in the smoker, and informed them that 
there was a chair car behind, which meant nothing 
to them, and they did not answer. And the con- 
ductor, noticing that they were only children, paid 
no further attention to them, but said : 

“Tickets, please.” 

Bud handed out the tickets bravely, and as 
the old man seemed friendly. Bud asked him how 
long it would be before they got there. The old 
conductor looked at his watch and then up at the 
ceiling, Ella followed his every move with unusual 
interest, then said: 

“Twelve-one we get to Oklahoma City.” 

— 17 — 



illllillJJlirmn 



-— 18 — 


TICKETS PLEASE! 


THE SPLIT GLASS MYSTERY 


Ella did not get the meaning and whispered to 
Bud: 

“What did he say?” 

Bud answered in a whisper: “About tweh'e 
or one.” 

As one hour made little diffei'ence in their 
young lives, they were satisfied with the answer 
as they understood it. 

Then they asked his name, which he told 
them, and asked them theirs, when they both be- 
gan to giggle. Bud explained that the girl’s name 
was going to be changed as soon as they found a 
preacher. He pulled out the license and showed 
it explaining that Oklahoma City was the nearest 
preacher and they were going right to him to “git 
married.” 

As the conductor wished them luck and hand- 
ed Bud the return tickets back, Ella asked: 

“Old man, what do you have your glasses 
cut right in two in the middle for?” 

The conductor had already sized them up for 
what they were, and w'as in sympathy with their 
ignorance; but this personal question made him 
say to himself: 

“You little, red-headed upstart, it's none of 
your business.” 

But having children of his own, he knew that, 
— 19 — 


BUD AND ELLA 

to keep from being asked the same question again, 
he would have to ansv/er it. So, after looking at 
her through the upper part of his split glasses, he 
said: 

“Young lady, these are double-vision glasses ; 
the upper part is for viewing objects in the dis- 
tance.” 

“Oh!” said Ella, still not having the least 
idea why the glasses were split in two. 

She was still looking at him in curious won- 
der when Bud spoke up real confidentially and told 
the conductor about his paw “packin’ ” the license 
around two weeks after he got it, and about 
“Eller’s folks gettin’ after him for it.” And Eller 
told of “Bud’s paw bein’ skeered of outlaws.” 

The conductor, not knowing what was coming 
next, began to back away, telling them he would 
see them later. But before he left the coach, he 
turned and looked upon them with pity, shaking 
his head dejectedly and thinking. He sympathized 
with their helplessness in this world, and as he 
walked back into the other cars, his thoughts 
stayed in the car ahead. He figured how uneven 
would be their opportunity to defend themselves 
from the odds that were against them; and how 
people would take advantage of them, while they 
would be unable to raise a voice in their own be- 
— 20 — 


THE SPLIT GLASS MYSTERY 


half. “Poor things! Adrift on the sea of life 
with no sail or rudder.” But he contented his 
mind by saying to himself: 

“There is no one going to take advantage of 
those poor innocent children while they are on my 
train. I will see to that.” 

As often as he possibly could, he went 
through the smoking car, sizing up the passengers 
that sat near them, and looking for suspects of 
any kind, who might have designs upon his un- 
wary self-appointed charges. 

The news agent, making his regular trip 
through the train, spotted them and as they pur- 
chased none of his wares, he was satisfied they 
would buy if he could find out what they liked. 
So he gathered up a bundle of cheap novels and 
told them to look the books over. 

On his next trip he gathered the books up, 
asking if they wanted any of them. Bud told the 
newsie that he didn’t like any of them, but asked: 

“Have you got the life of Jesse James?” 

The eager, anxious and optimistic way Bud 
asked this question convinced the newsie that he 
could get any price he asked if he could get hold 
of a copy, and he assured the greenhorn that he 
would bring one on his next trip. 

Then the newsboy began to rustle. He asked 
— 21 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


every Pullman porter, brakeman and even the en- 
gineer. And as the train w'ould stop, he would 
search every store and news stand along the road 
for any kind of an old copy of Jesse James. 

Keeping up this constant search for hours 
made the newsie more determined than ever to 
find the book. And as the stores and news stands 
were closing for the night, the unabated search 
was centered among the few places that kept open 
all night, the station agents and the lunch coun- 
ters. 

He would hurriedly ask each operator at the 
stations if he had the life of Jesse James, and 
would usually get an answer like this : 

“No, we’ve got no life of this James nor any 
diaries of Columbus.” 

And usually when he would ask the lunch 
counter man if they had an old copy of Jesse 
James, they would answer him by saying, that 
they had just one copy of ham and eggs left, 
which they might sell if that would do as well. 

Each one took a turn at kidding the anxious 
newsboy, as he rustled the stations where the 
train stopped; but he persistently continued the 
search until he discovered a copy in a chili-parlor 
that was some distance from the depot. After 
obtaining this coveted copy, he was compelled to 
— 22 — 


THE SPLIT GLASS MYSTERY 


run like a horse to catch the train, which was 
moving on as he reached it. 

All out of breath he boarded the train, shout- 
ing breathlesslj’^: 

“I found it! I found it! I’ve got it right 
here!” addressing the train crew, who had gath- 
ered around the excited boy, thinking he must 
be going “dippy,” not knowing the extent of his 
efforts to “find it.” 

When the newsboy had recovered his wind 
sufficiently, he told the crew of the almost impos- 
sible discovery he had made, and of the nice piece 
of change coming to him for his trouble, cleaning 
the accumulated mud from his shoes and clothes, 
which had been deposited there by his flying feet 
in that mad race from the chili-parlor to catch 
the train. 

After making himself presentable, the proud 
newsboy hurried to the smoking car. When he 
arrived he found his customer and the girl in a 
hot argument regarding “poor folks and rich uns,” 
and as it is bad form to approach your customer in 
a case of this kind, he hesitated for some time. 

Finally, discovering that neither one had the 
least idea of what they were talking about, the 
newsie walked right up and said; 

“Here she is, old boy!” 

— ^ 28 — ~ 


BUD AND ELLA 

Bud picked up the old copy of Jesse James, 
and his face brightened up as he smiled and said : 

“That’s shore it. An’ I reckon that’s the best 
book that ever was,” as he fondly turned the pages 
over. 

After fully admiring the treasure, he handed 
it back to the newsboy, saying: 

“You shore got a good book thar!” 

The newsie, almost breathless again, said: 

“Well, well, don’t you want to buy it?” 

“No,” said Bud, “I’ve got one jes’ like it at 
home, and so has my paw got one.” 

“Say, you asked me if I had Jesse James, and 
that means you want to buy one, in my way of 
thinking,” said the now angry newsboy. 

“Wall, I shore hate to have a misunderstand- 
in’ like this. When I say ‘have you got one,’ I 
shore don’t mean I wanter buy one,” said Bud. 

And at that, Ella chirped in, saying in her 
“sassy” way: 

“Well, of all things !” 


- 24 — 


CHAPTER IV. 

SOMETHING FOR NOTHING. 

HE newsie, realizing the hopeless idea of 
making anything in an argument with a 
sucker, turned the matter off as a huge 
joke and beat it to his trunk. There he 
began to “frame” on this country boy. 

The first trick he intended to play upon this 
“Rube” was with three wooden boxes, each one 
about the size of a pack of playing cards. He 
clipped about an eighth of an inch off the end of 
a one-dollar bill and pasted it across the end of one 
of the boxes, making it appear as if he had put a 
bill into the box, and in closing the lid down, had 
failed to get all the bill into the box. When he put 
the lid on this box, there was just enough of this 
strip showing to be recognized as part of a bill. 

This finished, the newsboy walked up to Bud, 
smiling, and said: 

“You’re a good kid, and I’m going to give you 
a chance to buy a box for a dollar. I am not going 
to tell you about the good things the boxes are 
filled with. Besides, look, I am putting into this 
— 26 — 



BUD AND ELLA 


one a five-dollar bill, and I am going to give you 
your choice for one dollar.” 

As the newsboy closed the box with the five- 
dollar bill in it, he began shuffling the boxes 
around, and in that way, turned them end for end 
so as to have the one with the piece of bill pasted 
on facing the sucker. As the newsie finished his 
shuffling and spieling, he fanned the boxes out, 
saying; 

“Take your pick for a dollar.” 

Bud saw a piece of that five-dollar bill sure, 
for he grabbed his dollar and Ella saw the same 
thing as she urged him to hurry up. She was as- 
sisting Bud in getting his dollar into the news- 
boy’s hands, so as to get the box with the money 
in it. 

They both grabbed for the same box, and 
when they opened it, they learned their first les- 
son, the one we must all learn — how hard it is to 
get something for nothing. 

But this time they had lost nothing, for the 
old conductor was there at the time and he made 
the newsie pretend that it was another huge joke. 
And as the newsie gave back the dollar, Eller 
snapped those freckled lids at him a few times 
and said: 

“Think yer smart, don’t cha ?” 

— 26 — 


SOMETHING FOR NOTHING 


The old conductor mai’ched the newsie back 
to his trunk, where he explained to him that this 
couple had his unbounded sympathy and he in- 
tended to protect them if possible, and the news- 
boy said : 

“You sure got a job.” 

Bud 'n Eller, finding themselves alone, re- 
sumed the argument about “poor folks an’ rich 
uns.” Ella said that, as they got farther from 
home, folks looked different, and she believed 
everyone that had a stiff hat and a white shirt 
was rich. 

Bud argued differently as he said you couldn’t 
tell a rich man from a poor “un” just by “lookin’ 
at ’em.” And he clinched his argument by citing 
her to a debate at the school house one time, where 
the winning side had shown that the only differ- 
ence between rich folks and poor “uns” was this: 
“Poor folks drink ice water in the winter time and 
rich folks drink it in the summer time.” 

This argument ended, they began to talk 
about the weather, for it was dreadfully cold that 
time of night without steam. Ella, who was sit- 
ting on the outside next to the aisle, in her effort 
to get warm, began to crowd up close to the bash- 
ful Bud, making him crowd over as near the win- 
dow as he could. Everyone was freezing cold, and 
— 27 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


they all wondei-ed why the engineer did not turn 
on the steam. 

The old conductor heard so many complaints 
about the cold that he sent the brakeman over to 
tell the engineer that everybody was freezing, and 
that if he had any steam to turn it on please. 
When the brakeman delivered the message, the 
engineer said : 

“For God’s sake ! I forgot that steam.” 

And he immediately turned the steam valve 
wide open, to make up for lost time. 

The train soon heated up with the full head 
of steam on; and everybody became happy and 
talkative except Bud ’n Eller, who were enjoying 
each other’s company so much, on account of be- 
ing so close together, that they just sat and 
grinned at each other until Bud smelled some- 
thing. 

Bud looked critically at Ella, who in a short 
time, also smelled something very unpleasant, and 
she in turn, looked critically at Bud, neither one 
saying anything, but each one mutely and silently 
accusing the other until the accusations were so 
openly registered upon their faces that it was 
only a matter of a few seconds before the guilty 
one would be pointed at with a finger of shame 
and in tones of clear understanding. 

— 28 — 


SOMETHING FOR NOTHING 


Ella had stood this smell until she was sick, 
and she had fully decided to come right out with 
it, as she was not “a-goin’ to put up with nothin' 
like that.” She moved over from Bud as far as 
possible and turning her face toward him, said : 

“Look yere, Bud — ” 

“Ouch ! Fire ! Fire !” yelled Bud. 

“Where?” asked Ella. 

“Down yander,” said Bud, pointing toward his 

feet. 

By that time Ella was out in the aisle with 
the other passengers watching, as poor Bud limped 
out, bringing with him a trail of smoke. Poor 
boy! He had sat there squeezed up tight against 
the hot steam pipes and burned out one whole side 
of his new boot. 

Ella wanted to apologize for all the nasty 
things she had, in her mind, accused him of as he 
had been sitting there burning. But she had never 
learned how to make an apology, so she did the 
next best thing she could by offering to take the 
inside seat next to the treacherous steam pipes. 
This she did, while poor Bud, with his head hang- 
ing in shame, wilted down into the seat beside her. 

The old conductor consoled them as well as he 
could, assuring them that there would be a law 
passed compelling the railroad company to cover 
— 29 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


these steam, pipes with a screen, and tried, in his 
fatherly way to comfort them. But they were not 
in the mood for consolation. And in summing up 
their situation, they had decided to act from then 
on without the advice of anyone. As Bud had said, 
after summing up the happenings of that day : 

“I ain’t a-goin' to do nothin’ that nobody says 
no more. Look at what that depot agent done, 
asked us to eat an’ then made a fuss an’ made us 
pay for it and that boy a-tryin’ to make me buy a 
book, and then said he was a-goin’ to give me a 
five-dollar bill for a dollar, an’ all that stuff. I’ve 
shore learned my lesson today.” 

He was going to say more when Ella chirped 
in saying: 

“Yes, an’ them split spectacles!” “I’m shore 
a-goin’ to watch that ol’ man, ’cause folks 
don’t have glasses split right in two in the 
middle whar they look th’ough, lessen thar’s some 
trick to it. I’ll shore be glad when we git back 
home.” 

Just the mere mention of home brought them 
back good-naturedly to the fact that they were on 
their wedding trip. And as the unpleasant odor 
from the burning boot had caused all the other 
passengers to leave this permeated coach, this 
pair, finding themselves alone, began to laugh and 
— 30 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


joke as they did down on the farm. Bud said: 

“I’m a-goin’ to see what folks has been a-get- 
tin’ outen that comer up thar.” 

Going up the aisle, he clung to the backs of 
the seats on each side to steady himself. He had 
decided long ago that it must be quite a feat to 
walk on the train “an’ it a-goin’, without holdin’ 
on.” Reaching the water-tank in the corner, he 
cautiously examined everything, touching it to see 
what would happen, until he accidentally touched 
the water faucet and the water ran out into the 
tin cup under it. He tasted the water, then looked 
at Ella and snickered. 

“What’s the matter?” she asked. 

Bud hurried back to where she was, still 
snickering, and looking around to see that there 
was no one listening, he laughed right out, and 
said: 

“Eller, this is a poor folkses’ car, ice-water in 
the winter time.” 

And they both had a good laugh. 

Bud continued walking up and down the aisle, 
each time learning that he could walk without 
much assistance from the backs of the seats, until 
finally he could go right along without touching 
anything. Then he began to show out by walking 
up and down the aisle unassisted in front of Ella. 

— 81 — 


SOMETHING FOR NOTHING 


As she did not seem to be interested in the ex- 
hibition, he called : 

“Look at me, Eller !” And as she looked, he 
grinned and said : 

“Hat-ding! I’m a ridin’ an’ a-walkin’ same 
time!’’ 

And up and down he pranced until she said : 

“Yes, you shore do cut a figger, sho'Rin’ out 
with that ol’ burnt-up boot on!’’ 

Bud’s head dropped again ; for the first time 
he had thought what a terrible “out” he would 
make “a-standin’ ” up in front of that preacher 
with his boot all “burnt out” on one side. After 
thinking seriously for some time, he looked right 
at Ella defiantly and said : 

“I’m a-goin’ to dew it ! I don’t care if they do 
call me a ‘dang dude.’ ” 

“Do what?” inquired Ella. 

“Put my pants legs outside my boots.” 

“But,” continued Bud, “I’m not a-goin’ to dew 
it ’long’s we’re on this yere train. I can stick my 
good boot out when anybody comes in, an’ they 
cain’t see t’other one, ’cause I got it stuck back.” 

They rode for some distance without speak- 
ing, evidently each untrained mind was trying to 
solve the mysteries of that day. Finally Ella 
spoke up, asking: 


— 32 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


“What did that ol’ man mean when he said 
that about vision or sumpthin’, when I first ast 
him about his split glasses ?” 

“I dunno,” said Bud, “I ain’t a-goin’ to pay no 
attention to nobody no more — ’sides that preach- 
er,” he added, hesitatingly. 

The fumes of the burnt leather had left the 
coach, and that old man, the conductor, had visited 
them, but as they were sociable no more, he soon 
left them, thinking they were sleepy. 

The train stopped at dimly-lighted and deso- 
late stations, and occasionally passengers would 
get on. Invariably, if they were men, they would 
enter the smoking car. 

Bud ’n Eller would carefully look them over 
as they entered the “poor folks’ coach,” but never 
again would they enter into a conversation, for as 
they said, “no tollin’ what next.” Bud had just 
enough money, by saving every cent his paw had 
allowed him, including five dollars for the preach- 
er, and for that reason, he must take no more 
chances with strangers. 

The train stopped at a weird-looking flag-sta- 
tion, which indicated absolutely no sign of life; 
there was the flicker of only one light in this 
destitute place, and under the light sat the form 
— 83 — 


SOMETHING FOR NOTHING 


of the night operator, the telegraph instrument in 
front of him. Everything looked natural enough, 
but there was not the slightest indication of life 
in this man. It was impossible to tell whether the 
life had been taken from his body or if he was 
sitting there alert and ready to respond to the 
slightest call from another operator. 

The old conductor gave that silent signal with 
his lantern for the engineer to go. As the steam 
entered the cylinders and the slack of the train 
was taken up, two men, of about the same size and 
build, mounted the steps of the smoking car, and 
passing Bud ’n Eller, selected a seat near the front. 
Never did these men turn their faces nor look 
back. 

As the train stopped at other stations further 
on, other passengers got on. It was late and they 
were nearing Oklahoma City. Everything was 
quiet ; no one was talking. 

Bud was thinking of his coming disgrace of 
going before the preacher with a burnt-up boot, 
or his pants’ legs on the outside, which was just 
about as bad. He knew that he was not showing 
off very well before his girl. He decided that 
maybe he was not standing very well with her, and 
he felt that he must do everything he could from 
then on to show her that he was the man she had 
— 34 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


believed him at home. 

Ella was still thinking about “them split 
glasses,” and she had half a mind to put the old 
man on the pan once more, as she was sure there 
was some trick about glasses cut in two right in 
the middle. 

Several more stations were passed and other 
passengers got on the smoker. 


— 35 — 


CHAPTER V. 

THE MARSHAL. 

B LLA lazily and quietly snuggled down, 
getting closer to Bud all the time, until 
her little red head was partly resting 
upon his shoulder. Bud began to get 
“sheered,” for he knew, by all the manhood that 
was in him, that he should put his arm around 
and support her. But he had never had his 
arm around her; and to do it for the first 
time, right there with other folks “lookin’,” al- 
most took his breath. 

But the thought of the poor showing he had 
made with her that day spurred him on until his 
fearful and desperate mind compelled him to do it. 
He cautiously slipped his hand along the back of 
the seat, thinking in his breathless determination 
what she might say if he did or if he didn’t, when 
his hand abruptly touched the hand of another. 

Bud gasped, as he exclaimed, “Oh !” which put 
Ella on her guard; and they both turned to look 
at the owner of that hand. They discovered that 
he was a large and powerfully-built man, with a 
hard-worn and determined face. Following the 
—— 36 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


body down with their eyes, they saw that the 
other hand was confidently grasping the handle 
of a forty-five Colt’s revolver. On the cartridge- 
filled belt was the mate to this pistol he held so 
positively, while between the two guns was a metal 
badge, reading “United States Deputy Marshal.” 

As they looked at his face again, they could 
see that his eyes were fastened, with a determined 
satisfaction, upon the two men in the front, who 
had entered the car so quickly and quietly at the 
still and desolate flag-station behind. 

Bud ’n Eller could see that the marshal meant 
business. They knew that they were not going 
to ask, hear, see, or know anything from there on ; 
but had decided to sit still, like two little mice, for 
they felt so small under the towering position of 
this marshal. 

As they went on, other passengers noticed the 
expression upon the face of this man and moved 
back to the next coach for safety. The old con- 
ductor, finishing the report that he must turn in 
at Oklahoma City, where he doubled back on the 
same road at one forty-five on a train called 
“Number Nine,” went to the front of the smoker 
and began taking up tickets. 

Those two strange men w'ere first, and as 
they had no tickets, the conductor collected money 
— 37 — 


THE MARSH.-* / 


for the fare. During all this transaction these 
desperate men never raised their eyes, as they did 
not want to be recognized. 

Coming next to Bud ’n Eller, the old man 
chatted pleasantly with them, explaining that he 
also stopped at Oklahoma City, but that he only 
stayed in that place one hour and forty-five min- 
ntes. Then he must double right back over the 
way they had come. 

“Gosh!” said Bud. “You shore have a fine 
time.” 

“Yes,” said the conductor, “I suppose I should 
pay this company for the privilege of doing about 
sixteen hours of work every night.” 

This man, like the majority of others, believed 
that he was doing more than he should, and was 
real touchy upon the subject; and they both no- 
ticed that what Bud had just said did not please 
the old man. 

Bud explained that what he meant by having 
a fine time was the fun he had riding up and 
down on the train all night every night. 

“Yes, I understand,” said the old man. “You 
are about as well-posted in regard to the work a 
man has to do as some of our superintendents.” 

And before leaving them, he gave Bud a very 
stern look. 

— 38 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


Ella nudged Bud, saying: 

“Look at what he’s a-doin’ now, lookin’ plumb 
over the top o’ them split glasses at you.’’ 

As the old conductor turned his reproachful 
gaze from Bud, the next thing he saw was the 
fearless form of the marshal. And as he reached 
out his hand, saying, “Tickets, please,’’ he moved 
directly in front of the man, obstructing the con- 
stant and determined gaze of the marshal, who po- 
litely took the old man by the arm and moved him 
out of the way, at the same time placing his fore- 
finger across his lips, in that way warning the 
conductor with this silent command, to keep his 
mouth shut. 

The old man, showing by his looks, actions 
and a series of facial expressions that he did not 
understand, the marshal, pointing to the badge on 
his cartridge belt, motioned the old man to move 
on toward the rear. The officer, walking back- 
ward, quietly followed. 

When out on the rear platform, he told the 
conductor that the two men in front were the 
Yokum brothers, two of the most blood-thirsty 
killers ever known. Continuing, he said : 

“My partner and I have been following them 
all night. On the blind baggage in front, on top, 
on the rods and all over this train, we’ve been on 
— 39 — 


THE MARSHAL 


it nearly all night. But they don’t know I am 
after them, for they are on their way right now 
to kill me. Them boys have killed more marshals 
than they got fingers and toes. Sure bad ones! 
Had ’em surrounded by twenty marshals. Didn’t 
do no good. Busted right through ’em. 

“Keep yourself and crew out of that car, and 
tell that gal and boy to move out quietly. For if 
them fellers suspect anything, the fireworks 
starts right then. And when the show does start, 
I know I’m a-goin 'to get one. Coin’ to get an 
even swap anyhow% and might get ’em both, as 
I’m a-startin’ early-like this time. Two on one 
gives a man the right to start sort o’ peart-like. 

“At the first shot I aim to fall on my back, 
as close to them as I can, and shoot with both 
hands, back’ards like, right up among ’em. Drop- 
pin’ that away sometimes fools ’em and you can 
get two good shots ’fore they know you ain’t 
dead.’’ 

The old man knew the place he was going to 
ride, and that was on the rear-end platform of the 
last sleeper. , But before going he was going to 
take one more chance to save the innocent ones 
he had been caring for all night. 

As he tip-toed back, he was frightened when 
he thought of the fate of the loved ones at home 
— 40 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


should he arouse the suspicions of the killers. 
While he was whispering in Bud’s ear, begging 
him to retire to the car behind, Ella, unable to 
hear what the old man was saying to Bud, became 
suspicious and whispered in Bud’s other ear: 

“’Member ’bout them split glasses.’’ 

The old man, getting a half-promise from the 
boy, hurried back to his rear-end platform, leav- 
ing his charges to arrange for their own protec- 
tion. 

Bud told Ella what the old man had said, and 
she gave him full power to decide for them both. 
After thinking for a second, he remembered his 
declaration: 

“Ain’t a-goin’ to do nothin’ nobody says no 
more.’’ 

And Bud shoved his hands down in his pock- 
ets and said: 

“No, I’m a-goin’ to stay right yere.’’ 

At that instant the marshal put one hand on 
the back of their seat, the other hand fondly clasp- 
ing his savior, or you might say, his life. Or was 
it the lives of the others ? Fate must tell in a very 
short time, as it must and will tell in a show-down 
like the one to come. 

Bud ’n Eller knew the marshal was there 
without looking. They settled down like still mice 
— 41 — 


THE MARSHAL 


again, for they were afraid of the marshal. They 
had never seen the faces of the two men in front, 
nor did they know that these men were the Yokum 
brothers, so they were not afraid of them at all. 

The train rumbled on as usual, making its 
usual stops, but as the hour was growing late, no 
one was getting on or off. It seemed that every- 
body was going right through to Oklahoma City. 
As the train would stop and start there seemed to 
be scarcely any noise at all. Everything was dark 
and quiet at the stations. 

As the train sped onward it seemed to run 
with an uncanny stillness. So pronounced was the 
hush that the creaking of the woodwork inside the 
old car could be heard so plainly that it was annoy- 
ing. So still was it that it seemed as if inanimate 
things knew of the impending storm that must 
break, blasting the lives of good and bad alike. 
And the old smoking coach creaked on more dis- 
tinctly than before, regardless of what was about 
to happen. 

The marshal was positive that these outlaws 
did not know of his presence in the car, but he was 
mistaken. They probably did not know that it 
was he, but they knew that they were being 
watched, as in cases of this kind they always 
know. There is no way of knowing how they find 
— 42 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


out. Some kind of conscious or sub-conscious 
mind tells them and they know. 

These boys knew they were being watched, 
by whom it made no difference. They knew, with- 
out talking it over, that when the train stopped at 
Oklahoma City, they would wheel, like the light- 
ning experts they were, and with a smoking gun 
in each hand, blaze a trail with fire and lead to- 
ward the back of that smoking car. 

The marshal also knew that, when the train 
stopped, the trying ordeal was at hand; but he 
faltered not. It was a pitiful sight to look at the 
unbroken vigil of this man, outnumbered, as he 
was, two to one, either of the outlaws being 
quicker on the draw and surer of the shot than he. 
Still he stood there and looked with that fearless 
and unbroken confidence to win, every fiber of his 
body like a taut bowstring, ready to dispatch with 
all the speed and accuracy he possessed, those ar- 
rows of hot lead, which would tell the story of life 
and death. 


— 43 — 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE CAPTURE. 

HE unmindful old coach creaked on, deaf 
to the impending storm, while everyone 
seemed tense with feeling or, like Bud ’n 
Eller, tense with fear. The young folks 
were positive that something was going to happen, 
but they had no idea what it was going to be. 

Every head in the coach was erect, every 
hand and every muscle still and unmoving; but 
every joint, every sinew, every nerve was alert 
and ready to move when the appointed time came. 

The marshal stood as he was, fearless and 
positive, with his uneven chance to enforce the 
law, the climax was close at hand. Now that the 
lights of the city could be seen and they were 
coming nearer. Now they were passing the green 
and red lights in the yards. Muscles drew tighter ; 
nerves became fretful and alert; sinews tightening 
and relaxing, making ready for the spring to ac- 
tion. A wonderful silence fell over all; even the 
old coach stopped creaking as the engineer ap- 
plied the brakes. Fire and sparks flew like minia- 
ture rockets from the grinding wheels. 

— 44 — 






THE CAPTURE 


Crash, came the form of a man through the 
window in front of the outlaws, with the hand of 
unquestionable death pointing at them, with ham- 
mer cocked and finger crooked over the trigger, 
supporting his command to “stick ’em up,” which 
they did, thinking it was a train robber. But when 
they felt the powerful hand of the law as the 
marshal handcuffed them from behind, they knew 
as they had known before. 

Bud ’n Eller were so frightened they could not 
speak nor hardly understand had they been spoken 
to. All they knew was that the crowd outside 
were saying that was a desperate chance the other 
marshal took, tying a rope to the ventilator on 
top and around his waist and swinging off the 
top of the coach and through that window and 
the train “a-goin’ fifty mile an hour. Shore de- 
serves credit fer that.” 

Great crowds entered the old coach to see 
where and how the feat was performed, no one 
paying any attention to Bud ’n Eller, who still re- 
mained seated and speechless after the crowd had 
cleared out, the new crew taking the train, ready 
to resume its journey north. 

Bud finally got up and “moseyed” toward 
the door. Ella partly rose, but sat down again. 
Bud stopped and waited, saying: 

— 46 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


“Ain’t cha cornin’ ?” 

Ella did not answer, so after waiting some 
little time Bud returned to her and said: 

“Well, this is the place.” Waiting a moment 
again, he added, “This is Oklahoma City.” 

“Well, I know it,” snapped Ella, looking 
peeved. 

Bud waited; the new conductor said “A- 
board !” 

Bud said: “They’re a-goin’’ on.” 

“I cain’t he’p it,” said Ella. 

Bud got real excited and grabbed Eller by the 
arm, saying: 

“Come on! Come on!” 

Then she snapped those freckled eyelids at 
him, saying: 

“Let me alone. I know what I’m a-doin’.” 

That settled it. Bud quit right there and sat 
down beside her, believing that he understood her 
predicament. 

The train was under way; the new conductor 
came along, saying: 

“Tickets, please.” 

Bud handed him the return-trip end, not 
knowing where he was going or what he was 
doing. 

The new conductor looked at the tickets and 
— 47 — 


THE CAPTURE 


then at Bud, when he finally said : 

“You’re going the wrong way, partner. Who 
told you to get on this train?” 

“Nobody,” said the excited Bud. “We was 
a-goin’ to Oklahoma City to git married, and that 
feller jumped th’ough that winder an’ skeered 
Eller yere, and she wouldn’t git off.” 

“Why were you going to Oklahoma City to 
get married?” asked the suspicious conductor. 

“’Cause they ain’t no preachers whar we 
live,” 

Then the conductor was shown the marriage 
license and was convinced that everything was all 
right. He, like the old man, took a charitable in- 
terest in the poor, unfortunate greenhorns. 

The old conductor at Oklahoma City was look- 
ing for the young couple and he was positive that 
they did not get off. So he sent a wire to the 
new conductor to put that couple on number nine 
when he met the train. 

The new conductor understood, and imme- 
diately informed Bud ’n’ Eller that in about an 
hour they would meet another train and he would 
put them aboard and they could go back to Okla- 
homa City on it, adding that the old conductor 
would meet them there and show them where the 
hotel was. They both grinned, but said nothing. 

— 48 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


Bud began to wonder why Ella would not get 
off the train. He dare not ask her. For if it was 
what he thought it was, and he asked her and she 
told him, “Gosh !” that would plague him to death, 
and he never would get over it. 

So every time the conversation referred to 
anything near that. Bud would change the sub- 
ject at once. Finally Ella began to bob up and 
down, shaking herself in various ways. Bud mov- 
ing away as far as possible from her. At last she 
said: 

“I’m all right now.” 

Bud did not answer. She had said and done 
enough. He did not want to hear any more about 
it, as he was positive now. Then she began to 
snicker and laugh and said: 

“Bud, do you know what was the matter 
when I wouldn’t get off the train?” 

Bud, leaning out in the aisle as far as he 
could and turning his face from her, answered: 

“I know all I want to know about it.” 

“Well, you’re not so powerful brave yourself, 
’cause you were skeered, too. ’Course, not as bad 
as I was, ’cause I was jes’ skeered limber. My 
laigs wouldn’t stand under me, just bent over 
when I stood up. An’ I didn’t want folks seein’ 
somebody pack me out like I was sick. So I jes’ 
— 49 — 


THE CAPTURE 


set here, that’s why.” 

Bud said, “Shore enough, is that why?” 

When she assured him that was the reason, 
he began to laugh, and on he laughed until she 
caught him by the shoulder and shook him, ask- 
ing him : 

“What air yew a-laughing at?” 

Between convulsions, he told her he was 
laughing at what he had been thinking about. 
And when she asked him what that was, he stop- 
ped and said: 

“You’ll never know.” 

“Here we are,” said the new conductor. “Come 
on, and I will square it so you can get back to 
Oklahoma City.” 

He led them to the other train, where he told 
the conductor on number nine that this couple had 
failed to get off on account of the excitement, ask- 
ing him to take them back with him to the city, 
where they intended to get married. Smiling, he 
continued; 

“Oh, yes, they have the license ; all they need 
is a preacher.” 

Bud ’n’ Eller, upon boarding number nine, 
found that there were scarcely any passengers on 
it at all, which suited them fine. 

On the platform, where one conductor had 
— 50 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


been telling the other about having the license and 
all they needed was a preacher, a broken-down 
railroad man was listening. These railroad men, 
when out of work and in good standing, can al- 
ways ride free from one town to another when 
looking for work, and are called “deadheads.” As 
this one was “deadheading” his way to Oklahoma 
City, he had nothing to do but observe and listen. 

After “taking in” the conversation between 
the two conductors on the platform, he naturally 
followed the green couple into the coach, until an 
idea struck him. This scheme would make him 
enough to eat on, if it worked. 


— 51 — 


CHAPTER VII. 

MARRIED, “TEE-HEE.” 

NYWAY, the deadhead hurried into the 
next car dressing-room, where he wash- 
ed his face and hands clean, combed his 
hair, turned his celluloid collar back- 
wards, and reappeared from the front. Holding 
his hands clasped as a minister would, he walked 
solemnly down the aisle and took a seat opposite 
the young couple. 

Bud noticed him and was sure he was a 
preacher. And the same lump came up in his 
throat as he thought of what he was about to do 
when he reached Oklahoma City. 

After sitting that way for some time, the 
deadhead spoke to them in a ministerial way, 
asking: 

“Are you going to the City?” 

Ella, not seeing who was asking the ques- 
tion, said: 

“It’s none o’ yore business.” 

Bud nudged her, as he did not want her to 
“sass” a preacher. Eller looked around Bud, and 
catching sight of the man with his collar buttoned 
— 52 — 



BUD AND ELLA 


behind and his fingers and thumbs pressed to- 
gether, she also thought him funny or different 
or something. And as he did not have on any split 
glasses, she felt that she had done wrong. So she 
whispered for Bud to tell him “yes.” 

Bud said, “Yes, we’re a-goin’ t’ stop in Okla- 
homa City tonight.” 

The deadhead said that he was going to stay 
there also, mentioning the fact that he was a 
preacher, which interested Bud ’n’ Eller so much 
that they became very confidential, even asking 
his advice about what people “done” when they 
got married, the deadhead advising them to suit 
his plans. 

Bud told the man that his. Bud’s paw, had 
given him five dollars to pay the preacher with. 
Upon hearing this, the deadhead became very 
active. He explained to them that, on the back 
end of that train, there were sleeping cars with 
beds in them; and that for three dollars they could 
hire one of “them” beds and have a nice little 
room, curtained off, all by themselves. 

The railroad man also told them that they 
could give him the five dollars and he would marry 
them right there in the aisle, adding that they 
didn’t need to get off that train at all, and show- 
ing them how they could save money by doing as 
— 53 — 


MARRIED, “TEE-HEE' 


he advised. 

They said nothing. The time had come and 
they were “sheered.” The railroad man, seeing 
this, insisted that they give him the five dollars, 
adding that after he married them, he would take 
them back and get them a nice little room with a 
bed in it, saying: 

“And you can sleep until you get plumb back 
to Sapling.” 

Bud ’n’ Eller, having finally agreed to this 
arrangement, the railroad man told them to stand 
up. The train was slowing up for Oklahoma City 
and he must work fast if he was to get that five 
dollars. By the time the train had stopped, he 
had them lined up in the aisle. He took their 
license and said something about love and obey, 
which was all the deadhead knew about weddings, 
handed them the license back and said: 

“Now hug and kiss. You’re married.” 

He then led them back to the first sleeper, 
and arousing the porter, asked: 

“What have you got for a new-married couple, 
Sam?” 

The darkey, rubbing his eyes, said: 

“Ah ain’t got nuffin’ but upper thirteen. 
Boss.” 

“That’s good,” said the deadhead. “ 

— 54 — 


'Give it 



MARRIED 

— 55 — 


3 ) ) 



MARRIED, “TEE-HEE’ 


to these folks quick.” 

And he took the three dollars from Bud and 
gave it to the porter for the berth. 

Sam grabbed his ladder, as the deadhead rail- 
road man ran from the car to tell his friend, the 
brakeman, what he had done, and as they were 
talking and laughing about the smooth trick, the 
old conductor mounted the train, all out of breath, 
looking for the couple that were going to get mar- 
ried. 

It was so good that the deadhead told the old 
conductor what he had done, showing the five-dol- 
lar bill he had collected for his trick. 

“My God! That won’t do,” said the old man, 
as he trotted back to the sleeper. 

Meeting the porter, who was just putting the 
ladder away, he asked : 

“Sam, where did you put that young couple ?” 

“Upper thirteen,” said Sam, the porter. 

“How long have they been in that berth?” 
asked the excited old man. 

“Jes’ ’bout free minits,” answered Sam. “Jes’ 
a-puttin’ this yere ladder away.” 

“Thank God,” said the old man earnestly, and 
he called loudly: 

“Hey, you folks in upper thirteen, get up and 
get out of there. You are not married at all. That 
— 66 — 


BUD AND ELLA 


fellow was a tramp, he was no preacher.” 

“Come on, get up,” he urged in a commanding 
tone. 

He waited for a second, when the curtain of 
upper thirteen parted a little and a little, red 
head appeared, with a freckled and smiling face, 
and she said ; 

“Tee-hee, yore jes’ a little bit tew late this 
time, or Man !” 


THE END. 


— 67 — 


Other Books 


BY 

C. A. FOX 

\ 

The Secret Order 
Truth 
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